


We're all a Little Broken (Some More so Than Others)

by PrinceStrider413



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Loss of Parent(s), Malcolm Bright is soft, Night Terrors, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Past Abuse, Protective Malcolm, Psychological Trauma, Twincest, evil twin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 20:41:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21277397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceStrider413/pseuds/PrinceStrider413
Summary: She was new and interesting. Malcolm Bright wanted to know about her but she wasn't very open to sharing her past. Slowly Malcolm will come to find that fate may be real, and she needs his help more than she will ever admit.





	We're all a Little Broken (Some More so Than Others)

**Author's Note:**

> First 'Prodigal Son' fanfiction. I love comments, so don't be shy :)  
also sorry if parts of the story seem like recaps of what's happening in the episode. I'm rewatching the series to help jog my memory of what happened. I'll try to go back over it before posting to help it sound more fluid.

_ There's no such thing as monsters..._

Malcolm could still hear those words ringing in his head from time to time. He had learned a long time ago that monsters were real, and that most of them were people. That had been something he ran into a lot at the FBI when dealing with serial killers. Before he had been fired, of course, he had been one of the best profilers they had. Now he was unofficially working for the NYPD. His old friend, Gil, had roped him into it because he needed a profiler for a murder case. He had been able to confirm that they had a copycat killer walking the streets. Someone was mimicking The Surgeon's experiment to find the most agonizing way to kill someone. They had three out of four victims so far and had found pages of Martin's journal that were at the suspect's place. Malcolm saw that the only way to solve this was to go to his father for help. The one thing he swore to himself that he would never do. On his way through the halls of Claremont Psychiatric, he heard an argument in one of the cells that were much less comfortable than his father's.

"No, don't leave!" A man shouted to a woman through the bars of his cell

"I have to go now, Cody. I'll be back on...Friday to visit." She sounded like she was trying to avoid an argument with him

"NO! You can't leave me here! I did it because I love you! I'll always love you! We're all we have!" Cody argued, now banging his head against the bars to get her attention.

The woman kept her back turned to him, tears welling up in her eyes when she heard the guards open his cell and wrestle him to the ground. All the while Cody was screaming like a child for the woman who wouldn't look at him, who he called Catherine. After a massive struggle, one of the guards had to sedate the man so he wouldn't hurt himself or anyone else. The woman was crying now, hands clamped over her mouth to muffle the sound. One of the guards took her gently by the shoulder and lead her down the hall toward the exit, past Malcolm. The guard gave a polite nod to him, but his eyes said: '_Some people..._' The woman was seated in a chair at the end of the hall and left to calm down. Malcolm wanted to help, but someone's life was hanging in the balance. He ignored the guilty feeling in his chest and continued to his father's cell. After a rushed conversation and promising to come back, Malcolm was off again. When he left the cell he saw that the woman was still sitting there, but not as distraught as before. Her head was resting in her hands and an occasional sniffle came from her. Malcolm couldn't bring himself to just leave, so he walked up to her.

"Um... Hello." He greeted her, "Pretty tough coming to see someone here, huh?"

"Yeah..." She sighed and looked up at him, "I would say that you have no idea, but I guess you do." She gestured to Martin's cell, "Who is he?"

"My father," Malcolm answered honestly, "You?" he pointed vaguely at cell she had been at

"My brother... he..." She shook her head, "He did some awful things..."

"Well," Malcolm took a seat next to her, "You do have to do some pretty awful things to end up here."

She chuckled softly, almost sadly, at Malcolm's attempt at a joke, "Yeah, you're right..." She held out a gloved hand, "Catherine."

"Malcolm." He shook her hand, glancing down and seeing a matching glove on her other hand. "Medical condition?" He asked rather bluntly.

"Psychological." She corrected him, standing and wiping her eyes once last time, "I need to get going... It'll be even harder to leave when Cody wakes up..."

"Oh, yes, I need to get back to work." Malcolm stood as well and started for the exit.

He could feel her eyes on him while he walked down the hall, but didn't hear her follow. As he walked back to the station he couldn't shake the feeling that he would see her again. That night the NYPD caught the killer before he could take another life. The next day, after a fitful night's sleep, Malcolm was summoned to his mother's house. His childhood home. He could understand why she still lived in it. The best years of her life were spent within its walls. What he didn't know was why she had been so adamant that he get there as soon as possible. It almost sounded like she was in trouble. He didn't even knock as he reached the front door, throwing it open and running inside to the living room. He could hear her voice in the dining room nearby and burst through the door.

"What's the emergency?!" He asked through slightly heavy breaths

Jessica looked at him, perplexed, "There's no emergency darling. I thought I told you that on the phone?"

"A lot of times when someone says it's not an emergency, it is and they don't realize it or they're lying." He pointed a finger dramatically as her

"Oh, come now, Malcolm." She waved a hand at her son's theatrics, "sit down, or don't, either way, I want you to meet someone." Jessica directed his attention to the young woman sitting adjacent to her.

Malcolm looked at her and furrowed his brow. She looked familiar. He hummed softly to himself and looked down at her hands. They were covered by a pair of black gloves.

"Catherine, was it?" He asked, making his mother look like she had just seen a ghost

"Since when are you psychic, Malcolm?" Jessica asked

"W-We've met... briefly," Catherine explained

"Oh? Well, I'll still do introductions. Malcolm, this is Catherine Johnson, I've decided to sponsor her recovery, and her brother being moved to a facility better equipped to handle him." She explained, "Catherine, this is my dear son Malcolm. Your upstairs neighbor."

Malcolm pursed his lips at hearing that. "Neighbor?" He repeated

"Yes," Jessica answered, "She will be moving into the apartment underneath yours. The first and second floors of the building. You'll be sharing a front door, so I hope you'll get along well."

"B-But," Malcolm began to argue, "I have horrible night terrors, I-I wake up in the morning screaming."

"We've discussed it. But, you wear a mouthguard at night that muffles the sound quite nicely." Jessica smiled, "I think it would be good for you to have a neighbor. Someone to talk to that isn't a bird."

"Hey! Sunshine is a great conversationalist." Malcolm defended

A soft chuckle from Catherine brought their attention back to her. When she saw them looking at her she seemed to clam up and looked at the floor intently. Jessica sighed softly.

"She isn't much for conversation, but I'm sure she'll be a chatter-box once she warms up to you dear," Jessica admitted, taking something from her purse, "Now be a good boy and take the lady shopping. Pick up some furniture for the apartment, new clothes, all that to help her get settled." She handed Catherine a credit card.

"Oh... Mrs. Whitly, I-I can't-" She started to protest

"Yes, you can. You don't have a job yet and very little money to your name. Take it. Once you're on your feet I'm sure you'll return it." She tucked the card into Catherine's hand

"Y-yes ma'am, absolutely," Catherine promised as she was ushered by Jessica to leave

"Go! Have fun, and remember, if you need anything just call." Jessica waved them both out the door

Malcolm sighed as soon as the door shut behind them. Catherine had nervously tucked the card given to her into her purse for safekeeping. He gave a polite nod to Catherine, not wanting to vent about his mother to an almost stranger, and led the way down to his car. He opened the passenger door for her and closed it when she was seated. Catherine buckled up and waited for Malcolm to get in and start the car.

"Sooo," He began some light conversation as he pulled out of the driveway, "Did you have any ideas for types of furniture you might like?"

"Not really...." She admitted softly, "Comfortable, I guess."

"Comfortable is nice. What about colors?"

"I like darker colors. Black, blues, purples."

"Cool colors? Those are always nice. Darker furniture hides stains better too. Nothing worse than a spilling something on a white couch." Malcolm offered a soft smile.

The corners of Catherine's lips turned upward slightly. Barely a smile, but it was better than when he had seen her crying the other day.

"Where are we going?" She asked, looking out the window.

"A department store. Lots of people go here to pick out furnishings for their first apartment."

"Oh. And after that?" She asked

"Where would you want to go next? I could have them deliver the furniture and set it up while we're still out."

Catherine thought for a moment while Malcolm looked for an open spot in the parking lot, "Clothes? I didn't bring much with me... I'm new to the state, fresh out of the system."

"You were in foster care? For how long?" Malcolm asked as he parked the car

"Since I was 7... mom and dad split and just... left us, my brother and I."

"Man, talk about shitty parents..."

Malcolm opened the car door for her and the two walked inside

"The apartment has the basics, it's just missing a couple of things. A new mattress and couch are really all it needs. If you find something that needs to be replaced, just let me know and we can come back."

"Okay. Mattress and couch. Sounds easy enough." Catherine guessed, but she was taken aback by all the options she was given

The sheer number of different combinations of colors, styles, fabrics, etc. for a couch alone was enough to make her dizzy. Luckily Malcolm was able to talk to the salespeople and help direct the conversations to what she had mentioned in the car. Darker colors with comfortable cushions, all the other options weren't a big deal. Finally, they had picked out a couch, a nice navy blue one with overstuffed cushions, and moved on to the bedding section of the store. Again Malcolm took the lead, seeing how apprehensive Catherine was and helped her find out what firmness of mattress she liked. She ended up choosing a fairly soft one, which Malcolm thought she would, and then they moved on to a clothing store. Catherine didn't pick out much, seemingly afraid to spend someone else's money. She was sure, however, to pick out a couple of dress shirts and pairs of slacks for job interviews in the future. After clothes were marked off the agenda Malcolm picked up some groceries for Catherine's place, knowing that there were any there. By the time the sun was going down the two were on their way home. Catherine was taken aback by the size of the place she was allowed to stay in. It could easily house a couple more people, but she had all the space to herself. It was almost too spacious. Malcolm gave her a quick tour: living room and kitchen downstairs, bedroom upstairs. Then he let her get settled in for the night. Catherine sighed softly as she changed into some comfortable clothes and got into bed a while later. The place was so new to her, just like the state. She had a lot of questions in her head but had asked very few over the day.


End file.
